


Purge

by Raspberry_Blond



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, PWPish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2492822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raspberry_Blond/pseuds/Raspberry_Blond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their escape from Internment Camp 371, Garak needs to shake the horrors that transpired there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purge

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after everyone is on the runabout after "By Inferno's Light." Worf, Martok and the Romulan are ... somewhere else, lol! And not able to hear ... things. One of my first forays into writing smut for this pairing.

“Garak –”  
  
“ _Now_ , Julian.”

Garak heard the desperate rasp in his voice and was proud of it. Good, then. He was past the point of control, past caring now. He was ready.  
  
“Please, now, or I am sure I will die.”  
  
“But you’re not . . .”

Julian paused before pressing gentle lips to the patterned line of flesh above Garak’s left eye.

“At least let me go to the replicator and get something to make it a little easier on you. If it hurts –”  
  
“The pain will be exquisite. I crave it. _Now_.”  
  
Garak pushed back with all his force, attempting to work himself onto Julian’s cock. The slender man was above him, his hands pressed firmly against his captive’s hips. Garak’s own hands were splayed out on the swell of the thin chest, the strong pounding of Julian’s heart vibrating beneath his palms.  
  
They were in one of the small rooms that served as crew quarters, both of them hastening there after receiving the welcome communiqué from the station that the false Julian Bashir had been neutralized. Until that message had flashed across the conn, Garak had wriggled like a Baldavite hookworm as Julian hovered over him, bending near enough to rustle the scales on his neck ridges with each breath as they awaited news.  
  
Several times, Garak had tried to shoo the doctor away, unable to concentrate on piloting the runabout while Julian was _breathing_ on him that way, his lips millimeters from the sensitive creases that lined his neck. Julian never took the hint, of course, and likely would not have gone away even if Garak had directly demanded him to depart. With Worf and General Martok recuperating from their injuries in the makeshift infirmary and the young Romulan girl sleeping, as well, Julian had nothing to do _but_ wait for word on the situation on DS9 as the runabout hastened to the wormhole ahead of god knew how many Dominion ships. Garak, too, had been concerned. It would have been a nasty irony to have escaped one hell-hole only to discover their home no longer existed.  
  
But then the response had come that all was well - at least so far as ferreting out changeling saboteurs went. Julian’s response had been instantaneous. With a cry of triumph, he’d spun Garak around and thrown his arms around him, squeezing with a strength that didn’t seem possible from such a slight body. Garak fretted that his condition would worsen with Julian actually in his arms, but as he was formulating excuses to flee and siphon off the heat building below his stomach, he felt _something_ insistently prodding his side.  
  
It took Garak fewer than two seconds to realize that as Julian was not wearing a phaser - and even if he were, he wouldn't be carrying it _there_. So that object boring a hole into his tunic could only be one thing . . .  
  
He’d looked into Julian’s eyes, intending to say nothing, but somehow his lips had begun to move. Somehow, those lips went from babbling nonsense to attaching themselves to Julian's mouth. Somehow, Julian didn’t knee him in the groin or yell for the assistance of his Starfleet comrade. Somehow, Julian kissed him with an equal amount of passion, and somehow, after Garak had the presence of mind to set the autonav for the runabout, they’d both stumbled into the nearest empty bunk and had fallen onto it, tearing at each others’ clothes with an almost gleeful ferocity sharpened to a keenness necessitated by their being quiet.

Garak was aware that he'd earned Commander Worf's respect, but he didn't even want to think about what he'd "earn" if the Klingon were to discover what he and the dear doctor were getting up to.  
  
He'd lain flat on his back, nude and quivering, as Julian kissed him, paying particular attention to the ridges that started below his ear and led down his neck. There had been more, much more of what Terrans called foreplay, and all of it had been extraordinarily pleasurable. Julian had even allowed Garak to take him into his mouth, a novelty Garak found intoxicating, especially when a delicious liquid began to leak out of Julian that was like Delavian lotus syrup on his tongue. But Garak had wanted even _more_ – more, before the others woke, more, before they had to resume their stations on the runabout.

More, before Julian inevitably came back to himself and decided that what he was doing was an incredible mistake.  
  
Perhaps, considering all that had gone on in the past week and what was yet to come, it _was_ a mistake and Julian would come to regret this and hate him, but Garak didn’t care. When he and Worf had departed the station, Garak was conscious that he hadn't really known what he'd find - and he couldn't have imagined that he'd find the _real_ Dr. Bashir. But he was all too aware of what he'd lost: his father, his dignity and nearly his life.

Now that he’d recovered at least some of the latter, he wanted to simply _feel_. Just wanted to be fucked, fucked hard, so that he could finally _forget_. Forget what he’d seen and done at the Dominion gulag. Forget the narrow prison of terror his claustrophobia had locked him in, forget the sorrow of Tain’s deathbed, forget Dukat’s new treachery. Garak wanted to exist on only one plane for awhile, and it was a sweet blessing that Julian was assenting to be his partner in this.  
  
As they had done on that wretched asteroid, they were putting their trust in each other again. In the prison camp, he'd been the conduit to Julian's escape, and now Julian was repaying him in kind. Perhaps he had done something after all to please the Great Gul to be the recipient of such a gift.  
  
Julian stared down at him, his hair hanging in sweaty strands around his narrow face. Lips parted, the clear eyes soft and hazy, he again voiced the necessity of using a liquid of some sort to ease his path into Garak’s body. Giving in, Garak loosed his hold on the man, forcing himself to relax as Julian held a quiet conversation with the replicator. The doctor then made his way slowly back to the bed, climbing with deliberate care back into his place.  
  
Garak felt the strong hands stroking his shoulders, saw Julian’s brow furrow as he nudged his legs further apart. The long body arced over his now, and Garak felt something as smooth as Rigellian velvet nudging the entrance to his body. Garak held his breath, letting it out in a large, whooping burst when slim hips bucked forward and the slippery length inched into him.  
  
The pain was immediate, but Garak embraced it. This is what he’d wanted all along - to feel something other than the cold fear and the emptiness he’d experienced during their recent incarceration. Garak reveled in the burning, stretching sensation, his breath escaping him in harsh, staggered bursts, his panting becoming more pronounced as Julian began to slide deeper inside, joining with him in complete intimacy.  
  
Garak burrowed into the mattress letting Julian set the pace, aware that the pain was phasing into an almost unbearable pleasure that left his entire body tingling. Julian leaned down and kissed him, thrusting his tongue wantonly into the welcoming mouth. Garak clasped the human close, enjoying the feathery sensation of Julian’s chest hairs brushing against the scales on his own pectoral muscles.  
  
“ _Yes_.” Garak let his head fall back as his hands continued to explore. He trailed his fingers along the thin arms, gently squeezing hard muscle. “Julian – oh, _yes_ . . .”  
  
Garak was glad he'd chosen this position. In this way, he could sate his visual appetite and watch Julian writhe above him. He was beautiful - simply _beautiful_ \- as he fucked him. The muscles in his belly contracted into rippled silk as he pushed forward, then smoothed out as he pulled back. Wiry hairs on Julian's inner thighs tickled the corresponding stretch of skin on Garak’s body. The textures of Julian’s body were a delight – smooth here, furred with fine hairs there.  Garak wrapped his arms around the long neck, pulling Julian down onto him.  
  
It was beginning to overwhelm him. The pressure and friction, and Julian’s gorgeously resonant moans – too much. All of it. Garak’s body began to fall in on itself, visions parading before his unfocused eyes. As the pleasure massed, he _saw_ all the horrors all over again - Tain's face, the Jem'Hadar soldier that had nearly squeezed the life out of him, the narrow crawlspace that had been both prison and salvation. It all blurred before him, and as he breathed out his release, every terrible image that had been scored into his mind's eye was washed away, obliterated now by the intense pleasure that was pouring out of his body and glazing his stomach.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, all he saw was Julian, beautifully aroused, head thrown back, groaning as he pumped faster. Julian's hips thrust forward hard, and Garak felt something inside him flex and a warmth spreading through him that made him gasp.

Julian twitched for several long minutes before he exhaled a shaky breath and collapsed atop Garak's body.  
  
“That was the most incredible thing.” Garak welcomed the return of his ability to speak by tightening his grip on the slender form. “Thank you, my dear doctor.”  
  
"Me? You're thanking _me?_ You saved all of our lives and now - now . . . oh god, that was wonderful, Elim." Julian rose on his elbows, looking down at him with a thready smile. “Thank _you_ for . . . for sharing yourself that way. What on earth could _I_ have done to make you believe any thanks to _me_ would be necessary?”  
  
Smiling, Garak laced trembling fingers through dark hair, comforted by the steady thud of Julian's heart that set his chest scales to fluttering.  
  
"I forget," he murmured in his beloved doctor's ear.

 

end


End file.
